


Dating is for Losers

by The_Audacity



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Audacity/pseuds/The_Audacity
Summary: Ichigo is mysteriously transported into a real-life dating sim at Karakura High. The only way out is to win the game, whether or not he wants to play. At least he has Ishida around to help him out. IchiIshi crackfic
Relationships: Ishida Uryuu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Player one, STAAAAART_!”

The obnoxious blaring of Karakura High School’s outdoor intercom resounds across the gloomy grounds as soon as Ichigo steps foot past the main gate. He doesn’t give it a single thought as he joins a rushing crowd of fellow students entering the main building before a dismal rain begins to drizzle. Daily life seems so surreal after returning from the Blood War a few weeks ago, but why did he kill Yhwach if not to secure his mundane future? His due reward is the return of studying and tests and loud classmates.

That’s fine. Ichigo isn’t ungrateful. Sometimes he just wishes he didn’t have to wear a mask for every encounter, be it social or martial. Meh, it’s probably just the weather weighing on his mood. Though no one else seems to be affected by it, he observes as he walks into homeroom. A typical susurrus of colloquial exchanges envelops him like a familiar blanket. Ichigo approaches his cluster of close friends and equips his best casual smile like a shield.

“Kurosaki-kun, good morning!” twitters Inoue with a dangerously broad salute.

He ducks away from her sweeping hand and starts to reply but he notices something strange about the situation. There are two small, horizontal bars hovering between them, at around Inoue’s waist-level. The letters ‘HP’ and numbers ‘50’ mark the bright red one to the left, a dull blue twin is adorned with ‘XP’ and ‘0’ to the right. He swipes at the floating enigmas but his hand goes straight through without disrupting the projection. Inoue gives him a curious look for the maneuver.

“Can’t you see them?”

“See what, Kurosaki-kun?”

“These… _things_ between us,” he vaguely gestures, eyebrows scrunching deeper on their own. She giggles in affable confusion and idly straightens her beige uniform sweater.

“I’m not sure what you mean but it sounds fun, like super-secret invisible messages!”

(XP +5)

The notification pops into existence and drifts slowly skyward until it fades into oblivion. Ichigo’s eyes follow its path in dawning concern. He swears he can taste a hint of chocolate on his tongue. Something very weird is happening here.

“You seriously didn’t just see that?”

Inoue props a hand to her forehead as though shading her vision from the sun—even though it is darker than normal thanks to the heavy clouds outside—and playfully peers around the room. Spotting nothing extraordinary, she drops her arm to square her shoulders and click her heels together in mimicry of a reporting soldier.

“Perimeter is all clear, Captain!”

Those colored bars aren’t the only bizarre things in the room, Ichigo muses in the wake of her spirited theatrics. Chad is seated at his desk beside them, paying absolutely no mind to their conversation.

“Chad, can you see what I’m talking about?” No response. His best friend doesn’t even glance up, just keeps staring off in the general direction of the vacant teacher’s desk. “Hey, Earth to Chad. Come in, space cadet. Hello?”

Ichigo waves in front of his face and doesn’t even get a blink in reaction. Curly chestnut hair faintly flutters with the breeze his passing hand generates, otherwise it might as well not have happened. Frowning, he turns back to Inoue and isn’t surprised to see she is patiently waiting for his focus to return to her. The wattage of her sunny smile dims under his pensive expression.

“Is something wrong, Kurosaki-kun?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet.” Then he checks the ticking clock above the whiteboard and balks to see it indicating lunch time. “Who reset the time on that thing?”

“Hmm…it seems right to me.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t we just get here?” Her puzzled frown sends a chill of alarm through him. “…The hell is going _on_?”

Leaving her pondering a response, Ichigo turns to their resident genius for answers. Ishida is quietly reading a novel at his desk like the chronic bookworm he is, seeming as though he stepped straight out of a brochure for how to properly wear a Japanese school uniform. Not a wrinkle, stain, or fleck of dust dares mar the fitted grey façade. Even his glossy hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. Ichigo inwardly rolls his eyes at the OCD dork while being slightly envious since he actually looks kind of cool and poised. He doesn’t realize the bars disappeared until they reappear as soon as he calls Ishida’s name. The boy finishes the sentence he was reading and flicks his gaze to Ichigo’s as if it’s the last thing he’d prefer to do.

“What do you want, Kurosaki?”

Despite knowing it very much is, Ichigo doesn’t take his frosty tone personally. It’s easier to blame his brusque demeanor on the rain that Ishida doesn’t like, either. Something about barometric pressure depressing his already low blood pressure…Ichigo hadn’t been paying full attention at the time. To be honest, he rarely does but Ishida has yet to call him out on it with any real anger, so who cares?

“Can you see these?”

“You mean your hands?” he flatly asks with an arching eyebrow. “Yes, I can see you brandishing them about for no apparent reason.”

“No, the—the _bar thingies_!”

Electing not to humor him a second longer, Ishida purses his lips and raises his book from the desktop it was lowered to. Ichigo plucks it from his grip and ignores the indignant scoff his hasty action elicits.

“I’m not messing around right now, Ishida. This is important.”

The precise poke of a finger nudges his glasses into place on the bridge of his nose. Almost three years after they first met, it’s still one of his favorite and most frequent gestures. Ichigo can’t understand why he doesn’t just switch to contacts if they slide around so much. They’d be a smarter option in battle, as well. Cheapskate probably refuses to shell out the cash for them.

“Are you in mortal danger?”

“I don’t know. I could be.”

“We all _could be_ , Kurosaki. You’ll have to give me a better reason to care than ‘could be’. Now, relinquish my novel so I can finish the chapter before class resumes.”

“That’s just it: class hasn’t even started yet because I only walked in ten minutes ago! Even if I somehow blacked out for half the day ‘til lunch, why is everyone goofing off in here instead of eating?”

“Fair point.”

“Thank you. Now, can we talk about—Hey!”

(HP -15)

Ichigo intends to impede his abrupt exit from the room but a jolt of pain startles him still as a chunk of the red bar vanishes. The ache only lasts for a moment but it is enough to send his heart into high-gear. He checks himself over for any conspicuous blue arrows but finds nothing amiss. If Ishida didn’t sneakily shoot him with his spirit bow, where did that twinge come from? The frown comes back full-force as he glares toward the door, tracking Ishida’s reiatsu to the cafeteria one floor below. That bastard really just ditched Ichigo to go eat by himself!

Gritting his teeth, he stomps back over to Chad and leans against the desk to meet eyes on his level. There is a hint of panic in the voice he uses to call his friend’s name. Chad reacts this time, but it is only to give a thumbs-up and a nondescript ‘muh’. Twice in a row. Next, he interrupts Keigo’s incessant prattling with a similar result.

“Do your best, Ichigo!”

“Keigo, knock it off. What’s wrong with Chad?”

“Do your best, Ichigo!”

“Tone it down, I said! Has everyone lost their mind this morning?”

“Do your best, Ichigo!”

The withering stare he levels at Keigo should earn at least a twitch of fear but the fool keeps right on grinning. Standing next to him, Mizuiro won’t look up from his alight phone no matter what Ichigo yells. To his credit, he also doesn’t respond when Keigo continues babbling at him. Tatsuki is listening to Mahana’s gossip and absently juggling a soccer ball back and forth until he addresses her. The missing blue and red meters manifest once again.

“What’s up, Ichigo?”

“Is this some sort of elaborate joke at my expense?” he asks her, indicating the other three he failed to communicate with. “Please tell me you can say something other than ‘what’s up’!”

“Of course I can, dummy. How can you be so energetic with this kind of weather?”

“Oh, thank goodness…Tatsuki, this is going to sound crazy but I can see these bar-things whenever I talk to certain people. No one else can see them and I have no idea what they mean. A few minutes ago, Ishida got pissed and ran off but I swear he _stabbed me_ or something because—”

“Listen, do we really have time for this nonsense? Fourth period is starting soon.”

Ichigo tosses a glance over his shoulder to check the clock and…it hasn’t budged since the last time. Going over to it, he can clearly see the second-hand ticking along. Sixty ticks later the minute hand moves, too. Yet, as soon as he looks away and back it is in the same spot as before he walked over. Did he get sucked into a time loop in addition to most of the class becoming pod people? And where is their teacher? His day just keeps getting weirder!

Fed up with the farce, Ichigo knocks the bouncing soccer ball from Tatsuki’s grasp. Her expression doesn’t change and she rests emptied hands on her lap. Shouldn’t she be kicking him or something? When he follows the ball’s trajectory, it is nowhere to be found. Eyes swivel to his complacent friend and flare to see the black-and-white shape twirling in front of her once more. Shrewdly narrowing them, Ichigo bites back a frantic outburst and pauses to think.

He hates thinking. Thinking isn’t his thing—it’s Ishida and Inoue’s, or even Chad’s thing but they aren’t exactly being helpful. So, now Ichigo has to analyze and postulate and strategize. Joy of joys!

It’s obvious this isn’t his reality, not entirely, which means someone must have put him here. Seeing as none of his allies would pointlessly subject him to this skewed scenario, it must be an enemy. In that case, why haven’t they showed themselves? What are they waiting for? What is their goal?

Racking his brain for potential culprits, Ichigo eventually remembers a specific Fullbringer whose ability includes locking people into pre-constructed games. Except he hasn’t seen any of them since Tsukishima and Ginjo showed up to help him defeat Yhwach. Why would Yukio randomly track him down to mess with his head? Why in this way? It doesn’t make a speck of sense but it’s all he has to go on.

If his assumption is right, the best option is to wait for the kid’s handheld to run out of battery. Unless he is using the fast-forward feature, in which case Ichigo could be stuck here for _days_. So, maybe he should simply play the stupid game and beat it. Whatever that entails, it’s surely better than staring out at the overcast sky for days on end. Why does it have to be rainy in the first place? Dramatic effect!?

Oh, he is going to kick that brat’s ass after this, age difference or not!

All right, so this game, Ichigo ponders as he snaps himself on track. HP and XP sound pretty straightforward—he does own a console, after all—so perhaps the goal is to level-up? But the bars only appear when he is talking with someone, so the objective could be related to socialization. The fact that his interactions are limited to certain people can’t be a coincidence, so there must be a particular prize he has to seek within that sphere. Maybe getting someone to say a key phrase or perform a deliberate action?

Keigo’s sudden uproarious laughter is distracting. Now that Ichigo’s focus is on him, a new idea occurs: dating simulation! That idiot has a habit of finding the lamest games and waxing inarticulate about them at length to anyone in range. In spite of his usual attempts to shut out Keigo’s jabbering, he inevitably soaks some of it in. Ichigo has heard of several dating sims over the years and the layout is always the same. Talk to the girls and get one of them to fall for you, then kiss her to ‘win’ the game.

Dating is for losers, but that doesn’t mean he can’t kick ass at it.

Out of everyone in the class who would be easiest to woo, his first thought is of Inoue. It is basically impossible to annoy her and all he’d have to do is keep a conversation going until, uh…until he can kiss her. Ichigo cringes at the notion of _using_ her as a way out of the game but he really doesn’t like it here. Besides, this isn’t really Inoue. This is a mock-up, a detailed representation of her created as a character in the game’s ‘plot’. However much any of them looks or smells or sounds or _feels_ like themselves, it’s all a lie. A trick of his senses, nothing more. Ichigo still vividly recalls exactly how excruciatingly convincing Yukio’s abilities can be.

“Inoue.”

She turns to face him and those bars immediately pop up. He is still missing about a third of his HP from that brush with Ishida. There has to be a way to refill it. Ichigo isn’t keen to find out what happens if it dwindles to zero. Knowing those Fullbring bastards, it could kill him instantly. A nagging anxiety surfaces at the thought and he really hopes every rejection doesn’t hit as hard as Ishida’s.

“Yes, Kurosaki-kun?”

“What did you bring for lunch today?”

(XP +5)

“Oh, I brought lemon pudding with umeboshi and a side of fried rice!”

“Er…that sounds tasty,” he fibs for the sake of fluid conversation. “Did you make that yourself?”

(XP +5)

“Yep! I would love to share some with you. Tell me what you think of the special seasoning I used.”

“On the rice?”

“No, in the pudding, silly!”

Ichigo blanches. What kind of special seasoning goes into pudding? No, it’s always best not to speculate when it comes to her culinary creations. He clears his throat and mutters something vaguely assenting.

(XP +5)

Well, this isn’t so difficult at all. As he suspected, Inoue is easy to talk to and a safe experience booster. Ichigo levels up soon enough and is relieved to note his HP refills in tandem. He gets an extra five points tacked to the end of the bar, as well. Buoyed by success, he dives into the discussion and watches Inoue’s appreciation register in a lengthening blue line.

The next level takes considerably longer. She starts to blush and fidget even though the topics remain totally inane. Nearly halfway to level three, her mannerisms shift shy no matter how Ichigo tries to keep it casual. Evidently, Inoue has an imperceptible bar of her own that his attentions are gradually filling. Watching her spiral into a raging crush over him is awkward as hell but he keeps at it, telling himself she’s not the genuine article and he just wants to _go home_.

Alas, it is not to be.

In the middle of his reply to her question about whether narwhal horns might have telekinetic properties, she pivots on a heel and sprints from the room with a nervous parting phrase.

“Gotta go! See you later, Kurosaki-kuuuun~!”

He blinks after her in shock. Why in the world would she dash off like that? Bathroom break? Now that Ichigo thinks about it, he has been here for a couple of hours already and isn’t feeling any of the usual human inclinations, much less seen anyone else exhibit them. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, bladder pressure—none have crossed his mind all morning. Aside from that brief sting of HP loss and tiny tastes of chocolate with every XP gain, Ichigo hasn’t felt any such internal effects.

Sighing at the deductive dead-end, he resigns himself to a hide-and-seek mini-game.

Inoue is loitering by a vending machine outside the cafeteria when he finds her. One peep of him and she scampers off again.

“Wait, Inoue!” He gives chase, impatiently calling, “Why are you running?”

They play tag all over the school. Up and down the stairs, across the gymnasium, through the corridors, onto the sports fields. A couple of students try talking to him but he doesn’t stop to chat. His HP is docked both times, five points for each snub. He might care if he weren’t so intent on keeping pace with his target. And Ichigo has stamina for days but his temper lasts about five minutes before he is more aggravated than baffled. He skids to a stop on the safe side of a closing girls’ room door and huffs with exertion. There is no chance he is following Inoue in there! It may be a moronic game but he isn’t _that_ desperate. Yet.

Rather than submit himself to humiliation, Ichigo plants his feet and waits. She has to come out eventually, right? In the meantime, there’s nothing wrong with a little catharsis in the form of glaring at the portal blocking him from prospective freedom.

“This had better not be what it looks like, Kurosaki.”

He whirls around to spy Ishida strolling down the hall toward him. The book he took with him to the cafeteria is held at his side, probably read cover to cover by now. The bars are back but Ichigo barely notices them.

“What _does_ it look like?” he wants to know.

“It looks like I’ll have to step in as Student Council president and protect some poor girl from your misguided ventures.” Ichigo grimaces because it’s true. How the hell did he know!? Then Ishida inclines his head toward the restroom as if listening to a voice only he can hear and asks, “Why is Inoue-san hiding from you?”

Ichigo thinks it’s pretty unsettling that fake-Ishida can sense fake-Inoue’s reiatsu just like real-Ishida would have been able to do.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m standing out here, so I can ask why she up and ran in the middle of our conversation.”

Striding over to fulfill that presidential duty he mentioned, Ishida pushes him away from the door and gives it a gentle knock.

“Inoue-san, are you all right? Has Kurosaki said something stupid again?”

“Hey!”

Ishida holds up a palm and shushes him. Ichigo resists the urge to shove him sideways and rip open the door to end this vexing charade. Inoue’s diffident reply from the other side preempts any mild acts of violence.

“ _Ishida-kun? It’s nothing! I was just being silly. It isn’t Kurosaki-kun’s fault_.”

“You don’t have to lie for him. Tell me what he did and I’ll make him apologize.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ichigo growls. Cold blue eyes cut askance at him, sparking with judgment.

(HP -10)

Ichigo takes it like a slap; it hurts about as much as one anyway. He wants to smack Ishida right back but he’s down to thirty-five HP, so he can’t afford the indulgence.

“Won’t you come out of there, Inoue-san?”

“ _Um…I will, but not right now. If that’s okay_?”

A gentle sigh is reflected in the shift of Ishida’s shoulders. He rounds on Ichigo with fresh layers of ice in his gaze. Rolling his eyes, he crowds Ishida away from the door to deliver the unnecessary apology, if only to get the other boy off his back.

“My bad, Inoue. I didn’t mean to upset you or anything, though I’m not sure what I did wrong. Sorry.”

(XP +20)

It’s the most he’s gotten in one go by far and he doesn’t even know which of them it came from. Ichigo looks at the only one he can see and detects an element of approval in Ishida’s expression. Hard to be sure, however, considering how purposely inexpressive he tends to be. Especially when he taps his glasses up to reflect the light and obscure his eyes. Why didn’t he order anti-glare lenses like a sane person!?

They back away from the door, leaving Inoue to her conflicted state of mind in peace. Ishida meanders in the general direction of their classroom and Ichigo automatically follows. He hesitates to broach the subject directly after what happened last time, but he wants to pick Ishida’s brain about his game scenario hypothesis. Call him crazy, but Ichigo would feel a lot better having someone he trusts lend credence to his assumptions.

“Do you remember Yukio? From Xcution?”

“How could I forget any of that ragtag bunch?” he bitterly retorts.

Yeah, the archer was right beside him when all that shit hit the fan. Even when Ichigo doubted his loyalty and screamed at him to back down, Ishida hadn’t abandoned him. Ichigo draws to a stop in the empty hall and faces him for a long-overdue tête-à-tête. This HP/XP business must be inspiring him to be more diplomatic or some ridiculous crap like that.

“In case I never said it clearly, thanks for standing with me then, and every other time from that Menos battle on.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Ichigo studies the floor as a tinge of embarrassment burns across his flesh. “I’m aware I have this habit of charging off on my own but even I realize I’d be dead a dozen times over without you and the others watching my back. So, I’m counting on you to keep dragging my ass out of the fire. I could really use your help this time, too.”

For the duration of this heartfelt monologue Ishida is a blank slate, but at the conclusion…

(XP +200)

(Level +1)

(Level +1)

It is chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate ice cream all rolled into one. The unprecedented boost gets him to level four and almost all the way to level five. Ichigo’s mouth waters and he gulps in astonishment as the source of his impromptu sugar rush fiddles with his glasses and lightly clears his throat.

“Is this in regards to what you were yammering about earlier? The ‘bar-thingies’?”

“Uh…Yeah.” He’s still recovering from that massive experience gain and the implications therein. No, he doesn’t want to delve into that dangerous stream of thought.

A shallow frown emerges. Ishida crosses his arms and tersely prompts, “Tell me about them.”

“Really? Ah—yeah, okay!”

So, Ichigo hurriedly tells him all about the bars and everything else he has observed since he showed up to school that day. Listening intently, Ishida makes a face at the words ‘dating simulation’ but holds his comments until the end. By the time he gets around to explaining what he was trying to do with Inoue, the wintry edge is back.

“Your plan is to seduce Inoue-san!?” he hisses in heated outrage. “Have you completely lost all honor, Shinigami?”

“She’s not _real_ , Ishida. Neither are you.”

(HP -20)

The resulting zing really smarts and Ichigo curses past a hard wince. All right, that wasn’t the wisest thing he’s ever said.

“Maybe _you_ are the one who isn’t real,” snarls Ishida. “Have you considered that?”

“Well, no. ‘I think, therefore I am’ ring a bell?”

“Don’t quote Descartes at me, solipsistic imbecile! I can’t believe you would toy with her emotions like that! Real or conjured, Inoue-san is Inoue-san and I will not allow you to break her heart for the sake of _convenience_!”

(HP -20)

“ _Shit_ ,” he grits past the pain. Only twenty-five points left. If they keep on at this rate, Ichigo is seriously gonna croak! “Will you stop getting mad at me? I already said I was sorry! I’m not enjoying any of this! Why do you think I tried to talk to you about it before? I knew you of all people could come up with a better plan, but you wouldn’t give me the time of day!”

Ishida doesn’t respond right away but his demeanor hasn’t softened one bit. A wave of weariness has Ichigo swaying on his feet. He reaches out to brace against the wall and scowls to hear his breathing pick up like he just fought a captain-class battle.

“Kurosaki, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He steps forward and starts to object to that blatant lie but, feeling like the creepiest creeper in the history of Creepdom, Ichigo decides to give up on her entirely and declares, “If it bothers you that much, I won’t bug Inoue anymore. I’ll find another way to beat the game. Happy?”

“No.”

(XP +50)

(Level +1)

There’s level five. Ichigo licks his lips and smirks. “Liar.”

(XP +20)

(HP -10)

Groaning at his own relentless stupidity, he sinks to the ground and props against the wall. Between the pain and the chocolate, his head is spinning. Buzzing pleasantly and throbbing warningly. It figures Ishida’s mercurial nature would make for one hell of an emotional rollercoaster. Things must be so messed up inside that guy’s brain! But Ichigo isn’t much better off most of the time.

“Are you ill? Do I need to drag you to the nurse’s office?” he threatens, bending forward for a closer look at him. “You seem flushed.”

Ichigo snorts at that. He hasn’t gotten to the part about the side-effects of losing HP and gaining XP. He hasn’t even admitted Ishida is an active member of the sim, like Tatsuki and Inoue! Maybe it’s best if he stays in the dark on that front. It’s awkward enough that _Ichigo_ knows about it and he doesn’t want to ruminate on why that might be.

“I’m fine, I said. Why don’t you put that egghead of yours to use and tell me how I’m wrong so I can fix it?”

Regardless of the slight jibe, Ishida doesn’t take another whack at his health meter. He regards Ichigo for a dubious moment before moving to sit beside him. A thoughtful hum precedes his prevarication.

“Amazingly enough, I’m compelled to agree with you. Based on what you’ve told me, this could very well be a version of that child’s ‘Invaders Must Die’ Fullbring. From the spatial distortion event with Arisawa-san to the various chronological and physiological aberrations, it is clear a powerful force is at work here. Whether for good or evil remains to be seen.”

Normally, he hates it when Ishida starts with the fast-talking techno-jargon but in this situation he gets a big fat ‘pass’.

“I, for one, think it’s pretty fucking evil to trap me in a cycle of one irritating social encounter after another. Not to mention the weather!” They peer over at one of the rain-sluiced windows comprising a long row bordering the hall in tacit agreement. Ichigo turns to him and asks, “So, what do I do? How do I get out of the game without having to kiss anybody?”

Ishida touches his chin and furrows his brow in careful consideration. The classic thinking pose almost always results in some insightful revelation and Ichigo anticipates it with bated breath.

“Have you tried leaving the school grounds? In case it isn’t a Fullbringer at all, it could be a dimensional containment kidou with hallucinatory aspects that—”

“Uh-huh, I get it. Wait here.”

Hauling himself upright, Ichigo lazily jogs through the school and out the main door to the gate. Attempting to step through it makes the world flash white and he is suddenly transported back into homeroom. No one cries out in surprise to see him randomly appear there. They are all just as he left them. Spine slouching in defeat, he returns to the hall and occupies his cooling spot beside Ishida.

“You respawned in the classroom? Like in a video game?”

“Ew, don’t say ‘spawn’, I’m not a _salmon_. But yes, I did.”

“The only other viable alternative is something like mass hypnosis but the only person endowed with that ability is—”

“Aizen. As far as I know, he’s still Seireitei’s bitch, so…”

(XP +20)

Something resembling a snicker has him turning to stare at the archer. Ishida bites his lip against the small smile he didn’t mean to show and turns to let dark hair hide his features. Ichigo has no idea why it would be important to refrain from displaying amusement and he wonders if this is the reason he has scarcely heard Ishida laugh in all their time as friends.

“Short of destroying everything in sight with your bankai—which I am _not_ advocating, for the record,” even if Ishida gave him the green light to go nuts with Zangetsu, Ichigo doesn’t have his badge on him to draw out his spirit anyway, “you may have no choice but to play within the bounds of the game and hope victory brings it to a close.”

“Are…are you saying I’ve gotta kiss someone after all?”

“You say that like it’s a death sentence.”

“Might as well be,” mumbles Ichigo, calculating how many hours it could take to bolster his tenuous relationships with any of their classmates. “Who’s gonna let me? Do you think if I asked reeeally nicely, Tatsuki might do me a huge favor?”

“I don’t believe it’s a matter of ‘favors’ or negotiation at all, Kurosaki. What would be the point of the game if you could earn a kiss with sympathy or force? No, dating sims are all about _courting_ your partner, not duping them.”

Unable to resist, he teases, “How do you know so much about it, Ishida? Have you been borrowing Keigo’s PSP?”

Ichigo belatedly braces for the HP hit that never comes.

(XP +20)

“Shut up, Kurosaki. Just be glad I know about them without asking useless questions.” There is absolutely no bite to his words and no anger in his voice, so he doesn’t understand why Ishida bothers trying to act tough. “Heaven knows you lack any semblance of social graces. Shall I be your Cyrano?”

“I can’t think of a single girl in our class who even likes poetry.”

“More is the pity. ‘Love is not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks’—”

“‘But bears it out…even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved’.” His incredulity is palpable, mouth parted and eyes widened. Ichigo smiles. “Don’t look at me like that, Ishida, it’s only one of Shakespeare’s most famous sonnets. But I figured you more for Blake than the bard.”

(XP +100)

Level six is a notch away and Ichigo isn’t even _trying_. What if instead of chasing skirts, he could just chase Ishida and then—Nononononono. So much no. He is not even going to acknowledge that _horrendous_ idea.

A click draws their attention down the hall as Inoue charily emerges from the ladies’ room. She spots them lounging there, seemingly without a care in the world. And darts off in the opposite direction. Ichigo teeters to a weary stand and paces into homeroom with Ishida in tow. Of all the endeavors he could conceivably attempt, sweet-talking one of his classmates is so far down the list it’s not even funny. At least he has an ally now.


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you ever been on the verge of a burp and then you have to sneeze, so it gets stuck in your throat and makes you wanna puke?”

“ _Gross_. Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”

(HP -5)

Chizuru glares until he leaves her alone. As soon as Ichigo walks away, her character ‘resets’ and goes back to gabbing about nothing in particular to Michiru. That’s what he gets for trying to be funny. Should’ve stuck with making casual small-talk. At least then he wouldn’t keep getting his health bar chipped away by every girl he engages with. He sighs for the thousandth time and glances at the whiteboard behind the teacher’s desk.

Sometime after he and Ishida returned to class, Ichigo noticed that the dry-erase board was graced with a tidy overview of his ‘player stats’ in bold black ink interspersed with occasional red highlights. He had no idea if it was there earlier and he just didn’t notice, or if it had been added after he’d left to chase Inoue all over the school. Either way, it isn’t very helpful. All it tells him is that he sucks at trying to chat women up, which he already _knows_ , thanks.

Basically, there are four main types of scores that influences how receptive a given person is to his advances. High or low social charm, strength, intelligence, and sex appeal in the right combination dictate his success depending on what his conversation partner prefers. Ichigo’s strength and sex appeal are fairly high—sounds about right—but his intelligence is only average. Which, okay yeah. His social charm, however, is lowest of all. Which, fuck that, he can be a sparkling conversationalist when he tries. This game is _rigged_ , damn it!

Anyway, he takes all this to mean he should pursue the girls who favor his highest stats, assuming he can figure out which of his classmates is into power and sexiness. Isn’t everyone? Apparently not, judging by what he has learned so far. Chizuru hates him no matter what, but she’s probably a lesbian—no really, he’s pretty sure it’s not just his ego talking. Michiru is insanely shy and won’t look directly at him. Tatsuki is immune to flattery and gets bored easily. Mahana asks random questions faster than he can answer them. Ryo will hardly give him two seconds of her attention before she is trying to pull out a novel—Ishida, much? Are they secret siblings? Inoue is still MIA. The only other boy in class who will talk with him is Tetsuo and all he wants to discuss is karate club.

His resounding failure is all the more frustrating because he knows every level-up improves his stats and he is _this_ close to level eight after hours and hours of making the rounds. Seriously, how is Ishida his top XP contributor!? The thought flits through his brain and Ichigo glances at the boy quietly writing in a notebook across the room. Funny how he is the only ‘character’ who isn’t aligned with anyone else during the sim’s ‘downtime’. Even the game’s creators can tell he’s the solitary type.

Maybe it’s time for a strategy meeting.

“Ishida.”

He finishes the sentence he was writing and flicks his gaze to Ichigo’s as if it’s the last thing he’d prefer to do.

“What do you want, Kurosaki?”

Pure, unadulterated _horror_ slams into him. Oh, gods, no…Did he ‘reset’!?

“Please, please, _please_ tell me you didn’t forget everything we talked about earlier?”

“Of course not,” Ishida says with a small frown and a tap to those ill-fitting glasses.

Ichigo wilts into the seat beside him and breathes, “Thank all that is merciful and kind…I thought I’d lost my only ally!”

(XP +10)

“Are you having a meltdown?”

“Probably, yeah. I’m down to fifteen HP from freakin’ eighty, and still fifty—er, forty XP from level-up.” It feels like trying to walk around with a boulder on the back of his neck. He can really sympathize with Atlas right about now. “I am terrible at this game. Is your Cyrano offer still on the table?”

The archer snorts and sets down his pen. “Quoting Shakespeare at them didn’t work?”

“I didn’t try it. Seems cheesy.”

Even if it impressed Ishida earlier, he is a special kind of dork. It is extremely doubtful anyone else would be as susceptible to poetic excerpts. It’d work on Ichigo, though.

“Maybe try a more modern approach?”

“What, like pick-up lines?” Ishida shrugs in response. Such wondrous confidence he inspires! “I’m supposed to have a bunch of pick-up lines memorized? You know I’ve never done this before, right?”

One slender eyebrow arches. That tiny gesture is enough to inspire a faint blush because Ichigo really should’ve been more specific about what he hasn’t done. ‘This’ could mean so many things, or everything. He meant ‘dating’ but he can’t even correct any assumptions because the truth is he _hasn’t_ done anything. Period. So what if he was always busy worrying about catching up in class between catching flak on the battlefield? Doesn’t make him less of a man!

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Gee, thanks.”

(HP -5)

“You’re welcome,” he snarks right back.

Ichigo narrowly avoids glaring at him for the jab. It’s not like Ishida is aware his disapproval hurts but still. Ouch. At this point, he is feeling pretty desperate. One more hit could be lights-out, permanently. Yet, out of anyone he has talked with, Ishida tends to distribute the most experience points per interaction. And Ichigo only needs forty more. What if he just complimented him a little? He hasn’t done it on purpose before but that doesn’t mean he can’t. Hell, he probably knows Ishida better than anyone aside from Inoue and Chad, who actually pay close attention when he speaks and ask him stuff about his life. Ichigo can do it, too. Easy-peasy!

“By the way, Ishida, I like your…uh, glasses,” he decides as they glint from a slight tilt of his head. “Yeah, I really like your glasses.”

“Is that supposed to be a geek-joke?”

Shaking his head, Ichigo hurriedly blurts, “No! No, I’m serious, I really…all right, I actually hate your glasses but it’s not what you think. It’s just that they catch the light all the time and…Hey, do you know why the sky is so grey today?”

“Why?” he asks in the clipped tone of one who is not intrigued by the non sequitur.

“Because all the blue is in your eyes.”

(XP +50)

Oh, damn. He can’t believe that worked! Maybe there is something to this one-liner business after all. Ishida blinks and looks away on a soft scoff. He can posture all he wants but Ichigo can feel the truth of it in a tingling rush pumping through his veins like hot cocoa and caffeine.

“Kurosaki, that was awful. As your ‘ally’, I must advise you not to make such reckless attempts when your health is so low.”

Right. Because Ishida can’t see the bars and has no way of knowing _he_ just refilled them.

“I’ll take that into consideration. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and brainstorm some better lines. Thanks for the pep-talk.”

(XP +10)

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t.”

Quashing an evil smile, Ichigo resolves that the first thing he will do once he makes it out of the game—after beating up some Fullbringers, obviously—is to tell Ishida all about his supporting Romeo-role in a dating sim and tease him mercilessly.

“Can I borrow a sheet of paper and a pen?”

“I only have the one pen.”

“What are you writing that’s more important than my seduction material?”

“It’s a short essay for—”

“For a class that we’ll never attend because this isn’t real-life?”

Ishida sighs and grumbles, “Fine, take it.”

Twenty minutes later, Ichigo has a list of potential pick-up lines jotted on the donated page. He nibbles the end of the pen in thought and smirks when Ishida makes a critical noise for the inanimate abuse. That’s what he gets for trying to sneak a glimpse of the unfinished prose before it’s ready. Ichigo shifts his body to block the paper like he’s thwarting a cheater during an exam and laughs at the indignant call of his name.

“What? So impatient! Are you that curious to see what I’ve come up with so far? Okay, I’ll test them out on you first. How does that sound?”

(XP +10)

“Sounds like I’d better brace myself,” he dryly quips. “Give me back that pen.”

Ichigo hands it over because he’s done with it, but also because he wants to see if Ishida will wipe it off before using it. He doesn’t. Whatever he’s writing isn’t interrupted by Ichigo’s launch of rapid-fire one-liners but he knows the boy is soaking them in regardless.

“Tell me if any of these have potential. Be honest!” The visible corner of Ishida’s mouth tightens but he doesn’t argue. Ichigo dives into it with, “‘I lost my teddy bear. Will you snuggle with me instead?’ Thought maybe Michiru for that one.”

“She is fond of stuffed animals. But now all I can picture is a miniature version of you in that Victorian dress I made for Kon once.”

“Eugh, don’t imagine me in a dress! Or at least pick a classier one than that pink monstrosity…”

(HP -10)

“It was fuchsia.”

“My mistake,” he grits around an ephemeral stab, “That _fuchsia_ monstrosity. Moving on: ‘Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to all my prayers’. Ryo is Catholic, right?”

“Does it matter?”

“Guess not. ‘Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?’”

“Oh, Kurosaki…just no.”

“Shut up! This shit is hard! Let’s see you come up with something better.”

Pausing his pen’s incessant scritching, Ishida retorts, “What do you think I’m doing?”

“What, really? Lemme hear one.”

“‘If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable’.”

Ichigo stares at his deadpan expression for a beat, then bursts into helpless laughter. “You _would_ say something like that! Puns are one hundred percent ‘you’. That is priceless.”

(XP +20)

Hilarity subsides as he ponders that appropriation. Shouldn’t being laughed at make him angry? Well, not if it was meant to be funny. Knowing Ishida, though, that was an attempt at charm. Ichigo can’t say he isn’t charmed by how goofy it was.

“I could go more risqué. You want ‘sexy’, right? Try, ‘kissing burns five calories a minute. How about a workout?’”

Eyebrows ascending, Ichigo commends, “That is…not bad at all. I might have to steal it.”

(XP +20)

Ishida dons his patented ‘proud’ smirk. The one he usually wears when he’s trouncing some poor schmuck who underestimated him in combat. Ichigo hasn’t seen it in a while because the Blood War wasn’t fun for anyone. Especially not when he’d thought for half a second that Ishida might actually have been the enemy. But that’s practically ancient history by now.

“Let’s see you top that,” Ishida challenges, sitting sideways in his seat to face him directly.

“Oh, I’ve got some steamy stuff here. Prepare yourself!”

“I’m all a-quiver,” he mutters and Ichigo chuckles.

“‘You’ve got an ass like the North Star; wise men are gonna follow it.’”

Ishida’s smirk widens into a smile. “Here’s a classic: ‘That outfit is amazing, but I bet I’d look even better on you’.”

“Hah. Fashion jokes suit you, too. Get it? Suit.”

(XP +20)

“You’re a comedic wunderkind, Kurosaki, but don’t sign up for Open Mic Night just yet.”

“Are you jelly, Ishida? ‘Cause I’m a donut looking for some filling.”

(XP +30)

“I…” Well, looky there. He’s blushing! “I don’t think that will work with females.”

“Um.” Now he and Ichigo are matching. “Good point.”

He bites his lip and breaks eye contact with Ishida because _awkward_. That was a spur-of-the-moment line that sounded clever in his head until he realized the insinuation. Ichigo clears his throat but he isn’t the one who supplies the next bit of gold.

“‘Do you live in a cornfield? Because I’m stalking you.’”

“Love it. Similar subject: ‘Do you like bacon? Wanna strip?’”

(XP +20)

Despite rolling his eyes, the smile has become a full-fledged grin. Ishida suggests, “Pretend to snap a photo of them with your phone, then say, ‘I just wanted a picture so I can show Santa what I want for Christmas.’”

“Festive _and_ cute,” praises Ichigo, scooting a little closer to him, “But December is a long way off. I’ve got a few more raunchy ones if you think you can handle the heat in my kitchen.”

“Go ahead and dish it out.”

There is a delighted pitch to his laughter. He contains it long enough to serve up, “‘I heard you were looking for a stud. I’ve got an STD, so all I need is U.’”

Ishida cringes as he taunts, “How nauseating.”

“Did it leave a _bad taste_ in your mouth?”

(XP +10)

Whoa. Really?

“That is too _salty_ , Kurosaki.”

“You want salt? ‘If it’s true that we are what we eat, then I could be you by morning.’”

His jaw drops, but…

(XP +30)

Man, Ishida really does like the dirty ones!

“I guarantee you will get a slap for that one no matter who you use it on.”

Everyone but him, thinks Ichigo with a sly tilt to his leer. “Hmm, then I also shouldn’t try, ‘I wish you were my pinky toe, so I could bang you on every piece of furniture in my house.’”

(XP +30)

A hand goes to cover Ishida’s mouth because he is laughing—no, that’s definitely a giddy giggle. It gets Ichigo going again, like they’re feeding off each other’s silly energy. It takes a couple of minutes for them to sober up and Ishida lifts his glasses to wipe moisture from the edge of an eye.

“You’re killing me,” he weakly complains. “I did not need that visual associated with Kurosaki Clinic.”

Now Ichigo is picturing it, quick as a flash of lightning. Molten and startling as one, too, because it is Ishida he is picturing. Scantily clad, hair wild, glasses skewed, lungs gasping, fists clenched, slick lips, voice moaning, rhythmic hips—Holy fucking _fuck_! Why did he have to envision it!? Ichigo’s face is flaming and his _platonic friend_ is giving him a weird look for his sudden silence. Say something!

“Uh, yeah, that’s…crazy.”

“I’ve got one that might be legitimate pick-up material. ‘If I had to rate you, I would give you a _nine_ because I’m the _one_ that you are missing.’”

“Wow, self-deprecating and complimentary? That would totally work on me.”

“Are you sure it didn’t?”

No. No, he is not. Ichigo laughs it off anyway, relenting, “I’ll admit, you’ve got a knack for this. No surprise, though; I always knew you had a way with words.”

(XP +50)

“I think you just stumbled onto another gem there. Honest accolades are usually the best.”

“Perfect. I’m pretty good at honesty.”

“Better than most,” agrees Ishida with uncharacteristic generosity. “I only have one more sultry example.”

“Me, too.”

“You first.”

“‘If I told you I was a pirate, would you let me plunder your booty?’”

Fast as a whip, Ishida returns, “You wouldn’t know what to do with my sweet cache.”

“Oooh,” Ichigo sings, thoroughly impressed. “Nice! What’s yours?”

“‘If I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.’”

“Yes. So much yes, Ishida. Nerdy jargon punctuated with a pun? I think you’ve reached your pinnacle!”

(XP +20)

“I’m only getting warmed up.”

Funny he mentions that, since the room does feel a tad warmer. It could just be the humor. Ichigo hasn’t laughed like this in a very long time. Too long, and never with Ishida. It’s…pleasant. Even equipped with contrived conversational ammo, Ichigo kind of wants to stay right where he is. Plus, he has accrued over three hundred experience points in less than an hour, whereas it took him five times that with everyone else combined.

“Well, keep ‘em coming,” he requests as he slowly stands. “I’ll go make the rounds and be back for more ammo later.”

“Good luck.” He can’t tell if Ishida is being serious or sarcastic but it doesn’t really matter because he adds, “Let me know how it goes,” and seems to mean it.

Imbued with a solid game plan and his co-player’s sincere endorsement, Ichigo confidently approaches one of the girls for a fresh try at winning their interest.

How long he keeps at it is anyone’s guess, but he doesn’t throw in the towel until his HP is running scarily close to E yet again. Maybe he’s just tired, or fed up, or burnt out but it seems the harder he tries to gain ground with someone, the faster his health drains. It doesn’t help that he’s getting distracted more and more often as his thoughts periodically drift back to Ishida like the tide to shore.

Ichigo is _really_ not trying to contemplate an obvious alternative but his eyes stubbornly flick to the boy’s impassive face in spite of his intention to hold his current partner’s gaze. Seriously, how is swapping spit with Ishida shaping up to be his best option at this point!? Never mind the innate weirdness of such an idea, but even if Ichigo did it as a last resort to keep from dying he’d get murdered anyway! Just telling Ishida he’s part of the romantic selection would probably do the trick.

Still, Ichigo can’t control his impulses—which is why he notices the very instant Ishida stands to leave the classroom. He’d swear the assclown who came up with this dastardly scheme must know the Quincy very well, seeing as they programmed these occasional sulky excursions that fit right in with his loner personality. Ichigo has no clue where he’s going but his instinct is to follow immediately.

He almost bails mid-conversation to do exactly that but the girl he’s dialoguing with happens to be Tatsuki, and she does not appreciate being ignored.

“Ow!” he complains when she punches him in the arm hard enough to bruise. “What the hell?”

At the same time:

(HP -10)

She crosses her arms and glares at Ichigo’s dumbstruck expression. “Don’t ask me a personal question like that and then tune out!”

“Sorry. Geez…” The sad thing is he already forgot what he asked. Scrabbling for a way to salvage the scenario, he blurts, “Violets are blue, roses are red, what’s it gonna take to get you in my bed?”

And Ichigo knows he should shut his mouth even before the first stanza is out but it’s almost like he _wants_ to fuck this up for himself because kissing Tatsuki? Pretty much like trying to smooch one of his kid sisters and that is miles worse than settling for a dude. A good-looking, incredibly skilled, undeniably reliable dude he recently realized doesn’t actually hate him so…yeah.

Her eyes flare and her jaw drops. She has no words. But then her eyebrows scrunch in impending violence and:

(HP -30)

“ _Shit_ ,” he hisses when it feels like someone shoved a bag of rusty razors into his gut through his belly button.

There’s more coming, he can tell. The game’s punishment is done but Tatsuki still has her own hurt to dole out and his HP meter is blinking an emergency-esque scarlet with a little number five representing his remaining sliver of life.

Ichigo runs.

He thanks whatever spirits or deities are listening that he is somehow slightly faster than Tatsuki and she doesn’t catch him straight off. She is terrifyingly close behind, though, and Ichigo can’t keep this pace. His heart is thumping pitifully from the strain of exertion in spite of the flashing bar that reminds him how easily he could wink out of existence. One more wrong comment or question and it’s lights-out.

Intent on spotting an escape route, he turns his head in time to see Ishida strolling down the hall to his left. Ichigo’s sneakers skid and squeak on the tile as he takes a tight corner at the last second. Since Ishida is traveling away from him, he doesn’t notice Ichigo’s approach until he hears labored breaths and tapping soles. He pauses, looks over his shoulder, and starts to say something but his question gets lost in a startled yelp as his arm is tugged toward the nearest door.

Bursting into an empty classroom with Ishida in tow depletes the dregs of his energy. Ichigo wearily sinks to his knees, still clinging to the boy’s wrist like a lifeline, and says something so embarrassing he almost wishes he’d gotten caught instead.

“Please, Ishida,” he rasps between fast, uneven breaths, “I need you.”

_Your help_ , Ichigo meant to say but he barely notices the slip because:

(XP +500)

(Level +1)

(Level +1)

It hits him like a mallet to the forehead. His fingers slip from Ishida’s wrist and he slumps sideways onto the floor, clinging to consciousness despite a brutal wave of pleasure threatening to sweep him under. Dimly, he hears himself moan as his eyes roll back and his spine arches a little. _It feels like an orgasm_ , he thinks incredulously. God, there is something so wrong about the way he wants to look up at Ishida and thank him for this amazing feeling—secondary to saving his life, which he totally just did. Ichigo’s HP bar is full twice over and he just made level-freaking- _ten_.

“I’m here, Kurosaki,” he’s urgently assuring when Ichigo surfaces from the haze of euphoria enough to listen. “Tell me how to help?”

Brown eyes flutter open to see Ishida kneeling beside him, expression tense with anxiety. His hand is gripping Ichigo’s shoulder, shaking gently to keep him alert. _Ishida’s so worried for me_ , he bemusedly realizes. But since when did he care this much?

Ichigo rises to prop his back against the wall with some assistance. He sucks in a deep breath to get his panting under control and decides to tell Ishida, “You just did.”

“What? How?”

He cringes in anticipation of the blow his HP bar is about to take for explaining, “You’re part of the sim, Ishida. You just saved my ass by bumping me up two levels.”

Because he liked—no, _loved_ hearing Ichigo desperately proclaim that he needed him. The same epiphany registers on Ishida’s stunned features as a vulnerable undertone. Then his expression closes completely and:

(HP -50)

Ichigo grits his teeth against the intense pain he knew was coming but he doesn’t bother hiding it. Ishida sees it and gasps, knowing what it means now. He straightens to take several steps away from Ichigo as if his affliction could be contagious.

“Y-you scheming bastard!” Ishida indignantly shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “All this time you’ve been—”

“No!” Using the wall’s support to slowly stand, Ichigo argues, “I mean, not at first. I wasn’t trying to _use_ you, Ishida, but you were helping me out in more than one way. You just didn’t know about it.”

“That’s precisely what using someone _is_ , idiot!”

“Well, how was I supposed to casually mention something like that when you never even told me you’re gay?” he fires back as his temper is riled.

(HP -20)

Okay. He totally deserved that.

“It’s none of your damned business,” Ishida grits through his teeth.

“Yeah, it kinda is when I’m stuck in this wannabe softcore porn _twilight zone_ with no way out but to maybe _make out_ with someone and you’re the only person in this entire fucking school who makes that seem remotely possible, so—”

“Shut up,” he snarls, hand slashing aggressively through the air. “You’re insane if you think I would ever—”

“No? I’ve got seven levels’ worth of experience that suggests otherwise.”

The bridge of his nose scrunches in outrage but his gaze drops to the floor between them. He hates Ichigo for saying it but he doesn’t rip into his HP meter.

“Just…stay away from me, Kurosaki,” he growls and pushes past to leave.

Ichigo goes back to homeroom after that. What else can he do? Ishida was genuinely his best shot at freedom from this sucktastic waking nightmare and now he won’t have anything to do with Ichigo. He hasn’t even returned to class since it happened. His reiatsu says he’s sequestered in the library’s dusty, disused bowels, undoubtedly brooding over being found out. It’s not like Ishida should feel ashamed for having a crush on one of his friends—unless it’s the whole ‘stupid Shinigami’ thing all over again.

Rolling his eyes at the annoying notion, Ichigo shifts back in his seat to bend forward onto the desk with his head on folded arms. He’s _so fucking tired_ in every sense of the word. All he wants to do is find a dark closet somewhere and sleep for about three days but this sadistic game probably won’t let him get any real rest. The fact that he’s down to thirty-five HP after his tiff with Ishida and an accidental run-in with another student on his way back definitely isn’t improving his mood.

In a sudden fit of pique, Ichigo jumps up and goes to fling open the window for a cathartic bellow aimed at the pouring rain.

When he’s done primal-screaming, he turns to see Inoue standing beside him. Looks like she finally decided to quit hiding. Not only that, but she isn’t nearly as fidgety or timid around him anymore. If anything, she appears rather resolved about something.

“Uh, hey, Inoue.”

“Hello, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Everything okay?”

(XP +5)

Nodding, she gives a little smile and asks, “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he agrees and rotates to face her properly. “What’s up?”

(XP +5)

“I just wanted to let you know that…” Inoue’s teeth worry over her lip as she wrings at her sweater sleeves. “I really l-l-like you, Kurosaki-kun.”

Wow. He was not expecting that. Isn’t it against the game’s guidelines for a character to confess to the _player_? Plus, she keeps shooting him these lovelorn glances like she’s just dying for Ichigo to scoop her up and kiss her senseless. Hell, if she likes him enough to confess first, she probably is. He wonders if the real Inoue would ever be this bold.

But Ichigo doesn’t have time for idle thoughts when she’s anxiously waiting for his reply.

What should he say? This is the perfect opportunity to take the win and get the hell out of here. It’s likely to be his _only_ opportunity, if he’s being realistic. The problem is he promised Ishida he wouldn’t use her that way. Ichigo knows that’s fair, particularly since he can’t fully return her feelings. Inoue is a precious friend and she always will be, but there’s a good reason his brain is bringing up Ishida during this intimate moment that really has nothing to do with him.

“Thank you, but…” he touches her shoulder consolingly, “I like someone else.”

(XP +10)

Her smile shifts sad but nonetheless sweet. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yep. And don’t worry: he likes you, too. You should confess to him soon,” she says and calmly returns to her seat.

Once again, Ichigo is left speechless and shocked at how realistic this dumb game can be. He can totally picture Inoue observing them unnoticed and figuring it all out on her own. How long has she understood Ichigo’s feelings without him even suspecting they were already reserved for someone else? Because there’s no doubt in his mind that he has liked Ishida since a while ago. Emotions this strong don’t crop up overnight—or over the course of an infinitely infuriating role-playing sim—and Ichigo reckons it has to be mutual.

Unless he’s so, so wrong and the real Ishida won’t hesitate to shoot him full of blue arrows at the mere mention of romance.

But that’s a concern for later. Right now, he doesn’t feel like fighting the urge to find Ishida and pour his freaking heart out.

Ichigo finds him in the library and they both freeze as their eyes meet.

“You still pissed?”

“Yes,” Ishida confirms but doesn’t throw a fit when the seat beside him is claimed.

“I’m sorry.” He scoffs and Ichigo presses, “I’m serious, Ishida. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or take advantage of your feelings for me.”

Breaking eye contact, he grumbles, “What feelings?”

“The same ones I have for you.” His head snaps up at that. Ichigo laughs softly. “Yeah. Turns out I like you, too. It just took me a while to figure it out. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Ishida is staring at him in a very similar way as Inoue did. Only with a lot fewer fluttering hearts and twinkling stars in his eyes, but a lot more macho posturing. Ichigo won’t hold it against him. They’re both terrible at showing vulnerability, like most guys their age—like most guys, period—and that’s fine. Besides, the way Ishida is trying to act tough while blushing a delicate pink is sort of…extremely cute.

But Ichigo’s stomach sinks to hear him say, “You can’t like me. I’m not real, remember? This is all just a game you’re trying to win.”

He leans toward Ishida to firmly state, “Whether or not this is a game, _my feelings_ are real and I didn’t come here to ‘win’ anything. It was driving me nuts thinking you were upset ‘cause of me, so I wanted to apologize. How do I make it right?”

Those blue eyes bore into him for an eternity. Ichigo swallows nervously and reminds himself to be patient. He can’t force Ishida to forgive him and it’s his choice even if he refuses to ever speak to him again. Ichigo knows he has no right to demand anything more than his friend is willing to give.

“You want to make it right?” He earnestly nods and Ishida closes most of the distance between them, pausing right before their lips touch. “Kiss me.”

His breath sighs out hungrily to hear those sultry words but he hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, stupid Shinigami.” Ichigo smirks at the nickname that just became permanently affectionate, then grins as Ishida adds, “I would’ve kissed you already but this ridiculous game won’t let me.”

Well, that settles it.

Ichigo kisses him lightly, then intently, then passionately because the longer their mouths are in electrifying contact, the more he wants them to stay that way. Preferably forever.

Yet, a handful of blissful moments is all they get before Ishida breaks the kiss with an alarmed gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Ichigo asks but he can see for himself as soon as he opens his eyes. The world around them is fading, and so is Ishida. “No!”

“Tell me,” he urgently insists, grabbing the front of Ichigo’s shirt like he can steal a few more seconds with him as an anchor. “You have to tell the other me, Kurosaki! I already—”

Ishida vanishes in a flash of white that spreads to eclipse his field of vision. Shutting his eyes and raising an arm to protect against the light, Ichigo falls straight through the floor.

He cries out as a jolt of pain suddenly flares throughout his whole body. When the ache fades, he feels solid ground beneath his back and water pelting his skin. It’s raining. A dark, geometric-shaped hole is closing in the sky directly above him. The thick grass that broke his fall wasn’t quite enough to cushion the blow but at least he’s conscious. And he can hear voices.

“You said he’d never beat the sim!”

“He shouldn’t have been able to. I set it on the highest difficulty!”

“Ugh, this is why I told you to leave that dorky archer out of it…”

“His character’s receptivity was programmed lowest of all, Riruka.”

Ichigo jolts at the name. It _was_ those Fullbring bastards! Two of them, anyway. He sits up carefully and spots them arguing nearby. It’s time for some well-earned payback!

“Oh, just admit you’re a crappy game designer, Yukio. That redheaded bimbo practically threw herself at him!”

“You’re the one who suggested we use their reiatsu signatures for authenticity. I could only influence their decisions so much when their baselines were—”

The grouchy teen cuts himself off to see Ichigo rise and approach them.

Riruka hisses, “Shit, he’s awake! Let’s get out of here!”

Too late.

Ishida doesn’t look happy to see him. He opens his apartment door, gives Ichigo’s sopping wet form a disdainful once-over, and impatiently demands, “What do you want, Kurosaki?”

“Can I come in for a sec?”

Frowning like it’s the last thing he wants to do, Ishida steps aside to grant entry but stipulates, “Wait by the door. I’ll get you a towel.”

“Hold on,” Ichigo says and grasps his wrist for good measure. “I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

Ishida is standing a step up on the hardwood floor while he is still on the concrete genkan, soggy shoes yet to come off. The slight difference in height combined with the purpose of Ichigo’s visit make this feel a tiny bit like a proposal—which it is, in a way. It doesn’t help that he sprinted straight here after whooping those Fullbring jerks, who thought it’d be entertaining to torture him for revenge. As if it’s his fault Ginjo and Tsukishima got themselves killed trying to knock Yhwach off his big fat high-horse!

Tugging his arm free of Ichigo’s loose grip, he sighs and prompts, “Out with it, then. I don’t have all night.”

“Um…” Now that he’s here, the whole thing seems sort of melodramatic. Maybe he’s taking this too seriously. Starting with humor might be the way to go. Yeah. “If I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”

Ishida just stares at him. Shit.

“Go home, Kurosaki.”

Again, he tries to walk away but Ichigo latches on to his shirt this time.

“That wasn’t it!” he claims, resisting Ishida’s attempts to shake him loose. “That’s not what I wanted to say, okay? This is just kinda trickier than I thought and…”

_I’m nervous_ , Ichigo realizes. He likes Ishida and he’s nervous about confessing because now that he _knows_ he likes Ishida, getting rejected would seriously suck. Which is probably why he never confessed to Ichigo, either. But inside information says Ishida likes him back, so the risk is fairly low, right? All he has to do is make one little love confession and they can remember this as a cute, awkward memory. _Right_?

“What is going on with you today?” asks Ishida, eyeing him with equal parts concern and irritation. “You’re acting a lot stranger than usual.”

“That’s ‘cause I figured something out about us and it’s really messing with my head.”

“Us? What is that supposed to mean? There’s no ‘us’. We’re not even fr—”

“Oh, fuck you, we are totally friends,” he reflexively snaps. Seeing the way it makes him glare, Ichigo carefully regroups and steels himself to say, “We’re friends but I want more.”

“All right, that’s enough. Whatever game you’re playing ends now.”

The irony of hearing Ishida mention a game almost startles a laugh from him but he reins it in and takes a deep breath. Ichigo looks him right in the eye and declares, “I like you, Ishida. Will you go out with me?”

Rather than answering the normal way, he tries to shove Ichigo back outside. When that doesn’t work, Ishida gives a frustrated scoff and tries to retreat. When _that_ doesn’t work, he snarls, “Get the hell out of my apartment, idiot!”

“Not until you take this seriously.”

Struggling to break Ichigo’s hold on him, he argues, “As if I’ll give you the satisfaction of making a fool out of me!”

“I’m not.” Ishida isn’t buying it, even when he suggests, “One date. Just go on one date with me and if you hate it I’ll never bug you again. I’ll pay and everything!”

“Do you really want me to take this seriously?”

“Yes!”

“Fine, then the answer is ‘no’.”

The fact that he actually does seem serious when he says it robs Ichigo of all self-assurance. He slowly lets go of the boy as his heart collapses in on itself in poignant disappointment. Ishida turns to leave him in his dejected stupor.

Ichigo stops him at the last second, looping both arms around to bring them flush together. He feels Ishida go stiff as a statue where he stands facing away from him. Before he can start screaming, Ichigo leans close to murmur beside his ear, “Please, Ishida. I need you.”

Maybe it’s cheating but Ichigo is desperate. Anyway, he _means it_ so it’s not even manipulation. He needs Ishida to be brave enough to let this happen because Ichigo can’t bury these feelings now that he knows they’re there, and it kills him to think Ishida has already been feeling this way for a while with no hope that it could ever lead to anything.

A shaky breath translates through the subtle movement of his chest. Ichigo smiles to feel the tension gradually leaving his muscles. Then Ishida turns around and holds him steady with both hands for a very serious kiss. Apparently, that (XP +500) was no joke!

Pulling him in tighter, Ichigo kisses back the way he wanted to during that god-awful game. Ishida’s not going to disappear this time, thankfully, but that doesn’t mean they have any reason stop right away. Especially when things are getting heated fast. Ichigo grunts softly as he is pushed against the door and Ishida greedily deepens the kiss.

A few minutes later, he eases up to look down and half-heartedly complains, “You’re getting me wet.”

“And you’re getting me hot,” Ichigo counters with a lopsided smirk, “so I’d say we’re even.”

Ishida tries but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Go home and take a shower before you catch a cold.”

“Who needs a shower when I’ve got you to keep me warm?”

Dodging the next kiss Ichigo aims, he smoothly replies, “I’m a third-date kind of guy, Kurosaki. If you’re lucky.”

“In that case, we’d better not study together.”

“Why?”

His smirk widens to a full-on sexy grin as he explains, “‘Cause _you_ would be my homework, Ishida. I’d slam you on the table and do you all night long.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was extremely fun to write. Like, way too much fun. Also, most of the one-liners I used were recommended by friends, but a lot of those were probably Googled so don’t expect anything very original.
> 
> Theme song: “Dead on Arrival” by Fall Out Boy


End file.
